Stolen Love
by DemiS
Summary: When JohnlLock's child goes missing, the family goes to terrifying measures to save her. Their other daughter, on the verge of shattering, goes missing as well, and their world falls apart.
1. Chapter 1

Stolen Love

Chapter 1

"John?"

"John!"

With a soft _thump_ , John's head dropped down onto the desk, his lips contouring into annoyance once more. Sherlock's voice kept slapping the air, and John finally gave in. His footsteps heavy with annoyance, he stomped off towards the bathroom door, expecting to have to hand Sherlock shampoo or a towel.

But as he slipped into the bathroom, turning to look at Sherlock, his heart skipped a beat.

Sherlock stood with his back turned towards John, and his damp curls sunk with the weight of drying water. Around his waist was a short towel, his feet bare and glistening. He stopped drying his arms and fixed his wise look onto John's through the mirror.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stood there like a gaping fish while Sherlock studied him with his sharp gaze. With a soft _swish_ of his towel, which revealed his thigh, he strode over to John. He stood there with no movement, a heat flushing his face as he stared at the ceiling.

Roughly, Sherlock pulled his chin down, locking his gaze onto John's. Leaning in, Sherlock moved the two against the door, which slammed shut in their wake. John didn't flinch. He just stood there, his arms held against the door.

"S-Sherlock. W-what are-" John started to stammer, but Sherlock cut him off with a rough peck on the lips. At that, John grew ridged under Sherlock, and roses bloomed under his skin.

"Shush John." Sherlock whispered quietly, yet his voice held sharpness that send a prick through him.

"Happy Valentines Day, John." Sherlock leaned in and whispered deeply into John's ear, landing a soft kiss on his ear. Coming back, Sherlock slipped a hand behind John, letting his arm drop, and leaned in completely to rest his cool forehead against John's.

With an intense gaze locked into John's cloudy eyes, which had dilated, Sherlock slipped forward to catch his bottom lip with his teeth. Watson inhaled sharply, his breath lodged painfully in his throat.

"Sherlock." He croaked, gazing into Sherlock's pale, green eyes. "I love you."

"I know." Sherlock uttered, his voice low and deep as he leaned in to his partner.

"A-and Sherlock. I-I think we should have a child." John murmured, admiring Sherlock's sharp features. After a pause, Sherlock spoke

"Me too."

15 years later…

"Dad, so the Bordeaux mixture is created from copper sulfide and slaked lime, and it's used to stop diseases in plants? So if the victim's apples could have been coated in it before, couldn't it have been tempered with? With Arsenic poison it would be almost undetectable." The young girl spoke clearly as she studied the map of photos and notes, her expression wise for a 14 year old.

"I spoke with Molly, she's testing it right now." Sherlock stated from his seat, adding, "Good job." He smiled at his daughter, standing up to ruffle her curly hair as he walked by.

"Wait, dad, aren't you supposed to pick us up from school today?" The young girl asked her father as he swept by. Pausing, he said over his shoulder.

"Of course I'll come. Didn't I say so? I wouldn't forget my two sidekicks."

At that, a voice sounded from the kitchen. "Hey! I heard that! I'm still your- Wait, I'm not even a sidekick, I'm a co-detective." John huffed as he peeked his head from the fridge.

Sherlock shook his head, striding over to peck his partner on the cheek before racing away.

"Time to get the results!"

"Text me the result!" The young girl called eagerly after her father, smiling happily at the thought of being correct.

"Freya! Did u tell dad about the Bordeaux mixture and Arsenic poison theory?" A girl's voice called over from the bathroom, and soon a young girl of age 13 popped out of the bathroom, beaming with happiness.

"He said that Molly's already testing it." Freya frowned, massaging her aching temples. "Pa, can I get an Advil please? My head's throbbing and school hasn't even started."

"There's some on the counter, just try to calm down, the three have cogs of speed in those heads of yours'!" John, called over from the couch, perched with a cup o' coffee and a newspaper.

"I know, I know. Gwen, come on. Let's get going. We're learning about atoms today in Science. How exciting is that?" She wringed her hands and her voice dripped with annoyance and boredom.

Gwen looked at me with a pout, her brow furrowed. Her hair was a deep color of chocolate; John's and Sherlock's hair combined. She had highlights, which sizzled through the two buns at the top of her head.

With a soft sigh, Gwen grabbed her backpack, slipping out of the house with stealth.

"Good luck girls!" John's voice sounded through the door, and the two girls waved him off as they raced down the stairs.

"Bleeeeh." Freya tapped her foot on the tiled floor from the back of the science class, bored out of her mind. Her high cheekbones shone with light as she turned to face the window. Her hand bouncing, agitated and annoyed at the stupidity of her class, she called over her teacher's talking.

"Atoms are the basic units of matter and they define the structure of elements. They are made up of three particles, protons, neutrons, and electrons. Protons and neutrons are heavier that electrons and reside in the center of the atom, called the nucleus. Electrons are lightweight and exist in orbiting clouds around the nucleus. The electron clouds have a radius of 10,000 times larger than the nucleus. Need I say more?"

Silence strung out in the room as they watched Freya in silence. Shaking her head, she scoffed, "You people are so much stupider than I thought. How is it in those silly little heads? Must be so boring."

" ! Control yourself!" Her teacher looked baffled, and she shook a finger at nothing in particular. "Get out of my sight! I will call your fathers and we'll see what they say about this nonsense!"

"Please! I don't belong in this class. I help my fathers solve crime cases, and I've learned this when I was 9! So please! Take me out of this hell, so I can join my father and see if I was correct in solving a case!" Freya's cries made the others filch, but she stood her ground, crossing her hands at her chest.

After moments of silence, Freya's phone chimed.

"Put that away this minute!" Her teacher's shrill cry cut through the thick silence broken only by the chime.

"No! Wait." Freya lifted a hand as if to stop, and pulled out her phone, quickly scrolling down towards her messages. She read quickly, her eyes widening and a grin spreading up her face as she spoke.

Molly checked the Arsenic poison, and you were correct. His apples and his pear was coated in a Bordeaux mixture with the poison. Good job you two.

-S.H

"Yes! Haha! Booya!" Freya cried, pumping the air with her fist.

"What is this silly nonsense about!" A male voice sounded from the door, and eyes fixed on him.

The head of the school stood with an arched brow, his eyes skimming the class.

"Ms. Holmes? What is this about?"

Excitement pulsed through her as she spoke. "I just solved a case with my fathers! I-it was a case that the police wasn't able to solve for weeks! Huh! And here I am, instead of by my father's side! How great is this?"

The head's hooded eyes scanned the class, before announcing, "Ms. Holmes. Come with me."

Rolling her eyes, Freya followed. Winking to her teacher, she laughed, "Ta ta!"

She strolled after the head, excitement clouding her judgment. Finally it dawned on her that she was being taken somewhere else. Frowning, she asked.

"Where are we going?"

But there was no answer. Instead, the head lead her out of the school and out to a darkened alley. Freya stopped, her eyes widening as she realized something.

"Oh my God." She gasped, taking a step back. Turning, she tried to run, but a hand clamped down on her arm.

"What? Let go of-Agh! Umf!" A cloth suddenly slammed into her mouth, muffling her speech. Darkness surged before her as her struggles weakened. Sobbing, she felt her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor. Her consciousness was weakening, and she could not see.

A sharp stab pricked her arm, and she felt something flow into her. Gasping against the cloth, she struggled, though her body was weak.

"You'll be a fine toy."

That was the last she heard before she slid into darkness.

A.N Hey guys! Welcome my new story! Stolen love! I hoped you enjoyed it, and tell me if you did! I also have one other story I'm working on, and it would mean a lot if you could go over and check it out! Thanks!

Thank you for reading and please review! :D

-Demi


	2. Chapter 2

~Chapter 2~

"So people are disappearing from around the whole world. Mostly women, and girls, though boys have been found too. Ages between 12 and 35. Snatched up from every corner of the world. Where have they gone?" Sherlock murmured to himself as he paced his home, a gun in his hand. He lifted his sleeve, revealing three nicotine patches plastered on his upper arm. Growling, he whipped around, facing the map of pictures and notes and victims. No pictures of suspect though. None.

Frustrated, he lifted his violin, playing a rough tune of ups and downs. He played for long, his hands dancing quickly along it. Sherlock's eyes skimmed the map, his fingers moving without thought.

"Sherlock? What is going on in here?"

Ms. Hudson, their landlady for years and years, waited in the doorway, leaning forwards.

"Thinking, Ms. Hudson. Now leave me, because I'm trying to solve a case that has been going on for so long. Even my daughters don't know it because it's so disturbing! Now, please! Go!"

Startled, Ms. Hudson scurried away, murmuring under her breath.

Setting down his violin, Sherlock clenched and unclenched his fists, lost in thought, forgetting about the time. Suddenly, his phone rang, and he ignored it, annoyed at each disturbance. It rang again and again and again, and Sherlock finally gave in. Snatching it up, he yelled into the phone.

"What? I'm trying to solve your indestructible case!" There was a deep pause… speaking into the phone, he turned back to the map, eyes scanning it. "Lestrade?" A silence, then:

A wind howled, and a screech tore the air. A gurgling sounded, and then a thump, and Sherlock snarled, knowing that the girl had been killed. Silence… And suddenly came beeps, counting up to 31.

Sherlock froze, the beeping filling his ears. Suddenly the beeping stopped at 31, and a distorted voice spoke.

"Don't you dare come and get her, Sherlock. Don't you dare come get any of them, or that will happen to them all."

The voice, though distorted, send shivers down Sherlock's back. Letting the phone go, Sherlock placed it on the table, leaping up on to the couch and studying the map. There had been 31 disappearances from around the world, and if one was killed…

Stalking over to the phone, he called John, waiting as the dial sounded.

"Sherlock?"

"John, come to the apartment. Now." The seriousness in his voice troubled his partner, so he came after a few minutes, grocery bags in hand.

"What? Don't… tell me… it's… one of your… stupid… calls for… nothing." John was panting, his breath ragged and sharp.

Sherlock held out the phone, the call repeating on speaker. John frowned, yet his eyes widened somehow.

" _Jesus_." He sweared unconsciously, the grocery bags quickly dropped to the ground. "Who can it be?"

"I don't know John! Who _can_ it be!? The missing people John! He is the person!" Sherlock seemed so annoyed that his partner was so slow to understand.

" _He_ took the girls! 31 disappearances! 1 dead! There's a new one missing John!"

Realization finally dawned to John, his face contouring into alarm.

"Ms. Hudson!" He cried suddenly, racing out the door and onto the staircase. Nobody answered. "Could you come here, _please!?_ " There was silence once more… a disturbing silence.

John suddenly whipped back and faced his partner. "Where's Ms. Hudson?" Alarm seemed to drip from him, and Sherlock waved it off.

"I don't know, out and about probably. John, go tell Lestrade." Sherlock faced the wall, his eyes leaving his partner.

"Aren't you coming?" He called, his frown creasing.

"No." His answer was plain, and John knew he couldn't push it. Instead, he walked up to peck his partners check, calling over is shoulder as he lumbered down the stairs. "Don't forget the girls!"

The comment flew over Sherlock's head, going from one ear through the other.

Gwen stepped out of the school with a smile, her eyes searching for her fathers. Her sister was at a different school, as the two would sneak out at times and help out their pa. He was fine with it, but John would flip when he found out. Sherlock had acted like he was disappointed, but later, he'd high-fived the two with a small smile and a wink.

Her hands clutched her backpack impatiently, waiting for her Pa to come and take her.

But he never came.

The day stretched on, and Gwen raced across the school courtyard, and up a hidden tree. She sat there all day, waiting for her dad to come. All her other classmates had drifted off with parents or friends, leaving behind an agitated Gwen.

Her father might be all about his work, but he'd never leave the girls. Well, mostly. He'd left them in school one day when a case had exploded with a new victim.

The sky was cloudy, but the fluffy light pillows wouldn't rain down on Gwen. They couldn't.

But they did. The sky darkened, and rain pecked Gwen through the leaves, leaving trails of water to slip down her neck or face or exposed arms. It went on for hours. The sky became a deep, dark blue, and a moon rose up. Gwen checked her watch. Of course. It was 9:32.

Shaking her head, she dropped down, wondering what happened to Freya. She probably walked home as well. And with that, she took of running towards her home at 221b Baker Street.

A.N Hi guys! So sorry for the late chapter, but sadly, Writer's block has been in full action lately.

Thanks for reading and please review! :D

-Demi


	3. Chapter 3

~Chapter 3~ 

Gwen's exhausted legs hauled herself up the stairs, her hair dripping and buns destroyed. She finally lifted up the stairs, thumping her head on the doorway.

"Pa? Dad? Freya?" Her voice was lonely in the home, the carelessly on lights cold and uninviting. Frowning, her lean body stumbled across the living room, eyes fixed on a wall of notes and maps on the wall. It was the first time she'd seen them, their pictures and maps boring into Gwen.

"What the…?" The maps looked worked on for a while, a few of the pictures bent and faded. A map of the world was dotted with reds, and a large 31 was hastily scribbled in the middle, Sherlock's handwriting audible even in its worst states.

Her eyes skimmed over it all, taking in the case. 31 disappearances. Gwen's eyes stopped onto a picture, a girl gone missing a while back. Pa didn't think much of it, but apparently he'd taken in the case.

Swearing unconsciously, she raised a hand to the wall, scrambling up the couch. She had noticed holes in the wall a while back, little dots that could have been made by pins of cases. How long had he been solving the case?

Hand dropping, she lowered herself to the floor, dripping hair pooling under her on the floor.

Where was everybody? Where the hell was Freya? Or Pa? Or dad?

Slowly, she rose, trudging of to the bathroom to take a hot bath. She turned on the tab, dancing on her toes to warm her freezing body. Finally, the water filled. Shivering, she lowered herself into the bathtub, leaning against the tiles.

Sherlock leaped up the stairs of the gay pub, his coat swishing behind him. His eyes roamed the room carefully. It was in low light, the bar a shadow of shapes and shining drinks. People decorated the room, stifling with people at this hour. He shuffled through, his smile soft and alluring.

What would John think if he saw him like this?

Letting his hair ruffle round, Sherlock stepped through the scattered loners, and towards a crowded dance floor. Eyes seemed to catch on his coat, shining with a sort of want. Sherlock's eyes focused on one person. His sharp hair flashed in the light. Sherlock slipped away, spinning to watch the dancers with long.

"Who's this charming man in the coat?" A voice slipped into Sherlock's ears, and he stopped. The man had fallen into his cage. Sherlock turned around, his smile small and flush warm in the dim light. The man that faced him had sharp blonde hair, and strange, blue green eyes. A red scarf piled around his neck, contrasting the sea in his eyes.

"Well hello." Sherlock's voice was smooth, and his eyes shining with excitement. The man took a step towards Sherlock, tilting his head back a bit to accommodate to his height.

"Why aren't you charming?" The man drew a finger across Sherlock's chest, eyes whipping up at the end.

"I am, aren't I? How about you run your little ass over to the room for me? And we can talk. And more." Sherlock smirked, and the man's eyes flashed.

"You are a quick kitty, eh?" But he turned to stalk to one of the lone doors. Sherlock's grin widened, and he followed eagerly.

Once inside, Sherlock purred as he slid on the bed. "What's this charming snake's name?" The nickname "snake" seemed to pass the man comfortably, yet he arched an eyebrow.

"Duncan." He didn't care to elaborate on his last name, but that didn't seem to matter.

"Aleck." Sherlock spoke softly, unbuttoning his coat. His scarf still snaked around his neck as we walked to lock the door.

"So, _Duncan_ what brings such a handsome man to this grizzly pub." Sherlock purred as he fingered the man's scarf.

"Same as you, I'd think. A single man looking for some fun." He licked his lips, pulling the lip in.

"Looking for, let's see. _Victims_?" Sherlock's soft voice was like rose, beautiful yet prickly. Duncan's eyes shone for a moment before his lids dropped and eyes narrowed into slits.

"Yes." He rattled, his snaky voice chocking Sherlock.

"Who commands you to do these actions?" Sherlock tilted his head down, looking at him from under his lids.

"Heart." Duncan smirked, trailing a hand through Sherlock's hair.

That was all Sherlock needed. He stepped back, hips swaying. A paper fluttered onto the bed as he put on his coat, slipping away to unlock the door.

Duncan's eyes narrowed, but he snatched up the paper. On it, written in a flowing handwriting, was a number and words, but they burned into Duncan's soul. It engraved _221b Baker Street_ on his lids.

Clenching his fists, Duncan dropped the crushed paper, letting it quiver down to the wooden floors, shaking as footsteps thundered away.

 _It was dark._

 _Dark as night. Dark as a twisted soul._

 _But that star seemed to flash on and off with every prick. The pricks. They were like barbs of roses stabbing into you, disappearing with a dull pain._

 _What kept hammering against your lids? Or what was that ache that throbbed between your eyes? Or your chest? Reality and coma was a deep haze, in which you wander through in confusion._

 _It was hell. A hell with screeching children and wailing teens and wilting women._

 _It was awful..._

John came back home after some time, finding the empty home. Silence broke only by splashing water. Splashing water? John frowned, stepping into the home carefully. He drew out his gun, sliding nearer to the bathroom, where the noise kept growing louder and softer.

His body pressed against the door, John breathed in a familiar scent of lavender.

John breathed in carefully, then kicked the door down, fixing his gun on the startled girl.

"Oh my god! _Dad_!" Gwen clutched at her chest, pulling up her knees to her hands.

"Jesus. I'm so sorry. _God_." John was dripping with embarrassment as he backed out the bathroom, eyes boring into the ceiling.

"Oh my god." Gwen mumbled, shaking out her hair to get rid of the crawling shivers.

John trembled as shudders raced down his spine. _Agh!_ How could he? _Jesus_. John stumbled into the living room in a haze. He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head.

And his eyes skimmed the room, passing over the couch. John suddenly paled. The map of the missing case was plastered on the wall, pictures and maps and a large 31 scribbled across it.

Gwen knows about it. The thought was a knife stabbing into John's mind. She wasn't supposed to know! With shaking hands, John limped over, tearing it all down.

Where had Sherlock been when she had come home? Where was he now? Just then, a terrifying thought dawned on him. Where on earth was Freya? A small voice whispered in his ear. _She might have gone out with Sherlock_. But he couldn't shake off an uncanny feeling. A feeling of dread.

John plopped down on the couch, stuffing the papers underneath. He pulled out his phone, texting his hubby.

 _Sherlock, are you with Freya? Where are you? I found Gwen alone at home, in the bathtub. She's fine. Call me._

 _-John_

"Dad?" John whipped up, his phone clattering down on the floor. Gwen stood in the kitchen, a loose shirt hanging from her body, her hair wet and in strands.

"Honey, hey. Sorry, um, about that. _Jesus_."

"It's alright dad." Gwen shifted uncomfortably, gazing at her dad. "What's the case about?"

John flinched, his fists paling.

"I'm not supposed to know that, am I?" She spoke quietly, her eyes on the floor.

"No honey. You aren't."

A.N Here's the next part guys!

Thanks for reading and please review! :D

-Demi


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